Angels Vs Demons
by Have-A-Go-Hero
Summary: If someone had told her that she would be returning to England because of her brothers, she would have laughed and very seriously threatened to have them murdered. Never in a million years did she expect to find herself in this particular situation. Enola Holmes fic
1. Prologue

Hello all! For anyone interested, this is going to be an Enola Holmes fic just minus the majority of the Enola Holmes Mysteries plot (ages, story line, etc.) in fact, really, I'm just borrowing the name more than anything and placing the character in modern Sherlock 'cause, you know, the series is amazing. So please enjoy! And constructive criticism is welcomed, not any of the simple story hating bull.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the high-functioning sociopath or Enola for that matter- I am simply borrowing for others (I hope) entertainment!

* * *

If someone had told her that she would be returning to England because of her brothers, she would have laughed and very seriously threatened to have them murdered. Never in a million years did she expect to find herself in this _particular_ situation. In fact, she still didn't believe she was doing what she was doing; she was used to hiding in plain sight and removing anyone familiar from her range, but clearly the game had changed. So for that reason, she walked off the small plane she had taken from Amsterdam to London and walked through the vast airport without even glancing at anyone she didn't have to, called a cab and muttered the infamous number.

"To 221b Baker Street."

* * *

When Sherlock received a phone call off Mrs Hudson –the woman still didn't know how to text- he was highly surprised to find he had a client who was willing to hire his abilities.

It had only been a few months since the whole Magnusson incident and the media had had a wonderful time ruining his already tarnished reputation, so more often than not, he was spending time in the lab -out of the public's eye- doing as much as he could for the cases Lestrade managed to get for him rather than being at the crime scenes themselves. It was often awfully boring. Getting back to his work, he looked between the notes he'd been given and the victim's poisoned body and found what he was looking for.

"Molly, tell Lestrade that it was the victim's brother who murdered her- something about an inheritance issue I'd believe-" He grabbed his coat and scarf and leisurely put them on, "The murder weapon is the victim's insulin pen and it should be inside her bag."

"And how did you figure that out from that?" she gestured towards the body.

"Really? Well, I suppose I should explain myself." He paused before moving back over to the notes, "The victim was diabetic and her doctor brother took care of everything for her- made her believed he truly cared for her but he didn't really- however when he found out that their father was going to remove him from the will, he thought to accidentally murder his sister so he'd get the inheritance. So, when she wasn't looking, he switched her insulin pen for another one with a higher dosage, causing hypoglycaemia when she took it, ultimately causing her death. He thought he could get away with it because of the whole amazing big brother role, but clearly he didn't. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a new case." And he swiftly walked out the door.

"What? A new case? Sherlock!"

* * *

She wasn't expecting an old woman at the door when she knocked, but she was grateful it was not her brother, even if she only a certain amount of time before she'd see him, she wasn't sure so sure she could handle that yet. _Mycroft wouldn't be happy at all,_ she thought nearly growling, _caring is not an advantage my arse, no one is free from emotion._

Instead she smiled at the woman and introduced herself as Alina House, a client for _Mr. Holmes._ She'd almost laughed at the woman's reaction- she'd heard about her brother's misfortune but she didn't think it had ruined him that much.

She was then lead upstairs to a crowded living room, first noticing the horrendous wallpaper with a smiley face spray painted on it with bullet holes as eyes- _very Sherlock_ she thought. She sat on the sofa and accepted the woman's apology of why _Mr Holmes_ wasn't there and was promptly left alone. She fidgeted, her leather jacket rubbing against the couch, a nervous habit she had never managed to grow out of.

It wasn't long before she heard the front door open and shut and the heavy footsteps up the stairs almost made her want to sink into the couch. _Too late to turn back now_ she thought before feigning an American accent as her brother came through the door.

"So you're the infamous Sherlock Holmes? I was expecting you to be taller." She smiled at him, shifting her sunglasses but not taking them off.

"I am." He eyed her suspiciously, "And you are?"

"Alina House."

"Alina House?" He walked over to the leather single seat and slowly sat down, "May I ask why you have come to me?"

"Shouldn't I have? I was under the impression that you where the best consulting detective in the world?"

"The only." She smiled again before making herself comfortable.

"Oh, well, I have a problem which I need help with, but you already know that."

"Do I? I only assume certain things, but I can tell you your life's story before you've even thought about it." He paused," However, there's something about you that doesn't quite make sense" He smiled as she fidgeted again.

"I thought as much Mr Holmes, care to elaborate on what doesn't make sense?" 'Alina' worriedly asked before mentally berating herself for giving her act away.

"Where to begin? The way you're dressed suggests that you're young, 25 years of age or thereabouts, however, you act far older- you've been in many situations that you've had to be someone you are not, older perhaps. Your hair is dyed, rushed even, so I can only assume that you have had to hide from someone or something; your accent is also fake, admirably so though- an octave or so lower gives it a more natural feel and the fact that you are wearing sunglasses indoors where it is particularly dark suggests you do not want me to know who you are- but that leads me to the most important discovery."

On the outside, she was calm- simply smiling at his deductions- but on the inside 'Alina' was a wreck, watching his every move as he flicked through a notebook without a care in the world.

"I'm not too surprised Mr Holmes, but I am intrigued- what is this 'most important discovery'?"

He smirked before getting up and moving closer to her, "Alina- means alone- if you're hiding from someone, you'd give yourself a name that means the opposite of your real name, however, you're smarter than that and know that they'd expect it, so you'd do the opposite to what you're meant to." He was in front of her now, "And House? A house is a home should you make it one..."

"Dear sister."

Shit.

* * *

Thanks for reading, and again constructive criticism is wanted- I highly doubt any of this makes sense, but hopefully will start to. So please review! I'd give you cookies but they've been replaced with some sort of bug.. :/


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer in prologue**

* * *

"Why are you so surprised, sister?"

I looked up at the man; he looked mostly the same as he had done years before - the same dark shaggy hair that seemed to defy gravity, the high cheek bones under the pale skin and light piercing blue eyes that followed your every move and action- just this time a little more... tired.

"You know why I'm here."

"I have an idea, but still, you came here with the intention to grace yourself with my presence and yet, you seem disappointed that I saw through your disguise."

"Really, brother? Whatever gave it away?" I replied sarcastically, my accent returning normal.

"The twitching," He smirked, "That seems to be one habit you've never grown out of... Enola."

"How many times have I told you? Do not call me Enola!" I barked back at him.

"Nope," He said with the upmost clarity, "You've still got that fiery attitude. And dear sister, Enola was the name you were born with."

"If that's how we are going to play it, I'll start calling you William." I sat back smugly and watched his face morph into one of disgust.

"Eugh, I still don't understand why our parents gave me such a boring name."

"I think I prefer my 'boring' name." I began to babble.

"Mycroft is just Mycroft, short, simple and unique." He continued, not paying the slightest bit of attention.

"I'd rather have a normal name than Enola."

"And the other one is just..."

"Yes, Amelia fits me quite well."

"Are you even listening to me?" He shot me a dirty look and was about to continue until the landlady butted in.

"Sherlock! That's no way to speak to a client, is it?" Someone else who stood up to him?

"Yes Mr Holmes, I have to agree with the kind lady here." I smiled cheekily at him.

"Mrs Hudson! How many times have I told you not to interrupt me? Besides, she needs someone to keep her in check." He huffed and turned away.

"I'm sorry about that dear," The old woman began, "He's not much of a people person sadly, tea?"

"Please Mrs Hudson," I smiled at her, "And it's quite alright, I've dealt with it enough times before."

"Oh?"

"Ah yes, I don't think I've properly introduced myself, have I?" I extended my hand to her, "I'm Amelia Holmes."

* * *

 _Sherlock P.O.V_

It was almost amusing watching Mrs Hudson's reaction but my mind was too preoccupied on what had caused Amelia to come to me. _The girl isn't stupid and can sort things out by herself, why on earth would she need my help?_ I questioned myself. My dear sister was one of the few neither myself or Mycroft could deduce- she was a conundrum through and through.

Speaking of brother mine, I checked to see if she was focused on Mrs Hudson- _"There's another one? I hope you aren't as bad as your brothers."-_ and quickly sent a text to Mycroft.

' _Brother, come if convenient'_

' _If not, come anyway'_

Sent.

I highly doubt that Mycroft wouldn't come, as much as we despise each other, he isn't one to ignore me if _willing_ go to him.

"Not that it's happened many times before." I muttered in denial.

"Sherlock?" I heard a chuckle come from behind me.

"What?" I replied hastily.

"You okay?" She gave me a suspicious glare.

"Yes, I'm good. Perfect in fact. Now, what where you saying?"

"I was saying: I hope you don't mind me bunking on your couch for a bit- at least until I get somewhere to stay."

"No-"

"What?" She asked shocked.

"-I said no to the couch. There's a spare room upstairs, isn't there Mrs Hudson? I'm sure you won't mind if she stays there for a while- I can sort payment out."

The old woman smiled, "Of course she can-"

"No."

"What?" both Mrs Hudson and I replied.

"I'm not letting you pay for me, I'm not a bloody charity! I'll find myself a job as soon as possible- until then, I'll be on the couch."

After a while on an intense staring competition between my sister and I, I began to laugh, "And there it is again. You know you should get that temper of yours under check, dear sister." I walked over to my violin and prepared myself to play, "And you will be staying in the spare room- and if you don't like the idea, you can consider the payment a loan from me. Now just nod and sit down, I won't be having any arguments with you for now."

And I began to play.

* * *

 _3_ _rd_ _person P.O.V_

It wasn't long before they both heard the front door opening and footsteps getting louder as they got up the stairs. Sherlock, not in the slightest bothered, was curled up on his seat watching the god awful TV which John had introduced to him whilst Amelia was hidden in a pile of blankets on the couch. When Mycroft walked in, neither of them greeted him.

"Sherlock, why did you message me at this late hour, only for you to be curled up watching pathetic TV?"

"Well, it's not my fault that you came so late. God brother mine, have you been eating more plum puddings?" Amelia found it difficult to stifle the giggle that arose in her throat, and slapped her hands across her mouth. Mycroft, for the moment, didn't seem to think the noise was relevant and continued his conversation with their brother.

"If the only reason why you asked me to come was to insult my eating habits, I'll be off." And he began to turn around.

"No!" Sherlock shot up, "I mean, don't leave- the best part of the programme is about to happen."

Mycroft simply tutted.

"Okay, okay, I see I can't win you around with the TV, but it was worth a shot-"

"What do you want Sherlock?" Mycroft stared dead into Sherlock's eyes. _Is he like this with everyone?_ Amelia thought.

Sherlock shrugged and sat back down, "Take a seat, I think we have an interesting story to hear."

"What?" Mycroft sat and glanced around the room, looking for something of importance. When he found it, his face drained of any colour, "Oh."

"Hello brother dearest." She smiled a watery smile- _he would murder her for that,_ "It's been awhile."

Mycroft's voice and face was devoid of all emotion, yet his eyes where telling another story, "Indeed it has been."

* * *

 **Hello there! Again, another short one, but! The next chapter will be revealing who Amelia is and why she's in London. Hope you enjoyed the read and please review! I'll give you a special consulting- consulting-detective badge! x**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer in prologue**

* * *

"Indeed it has been."

I looked at the man properly. Unlike Sherlock, Mycroft had changed a lot- his auburn hair had gone darker and streaks of grey had begun to appear. He looked older, much older than when I had last seen him, and it didn't suit him.

"Yes, it's been that long that you it seems you have begun to look like father."

That gained a snort from Sherlock. Mycroft just smiled emptily.

"Yes, this is what happens when you have to run around younger siblings, especially reckless ones who believe they can cheat death more than once."

Sherlock just sunk into the couch.

"That might be so, but I'm not here to talk about looks."

"Clearly," He looked me up and down, "Though, dearest sister, I believe you are in dire need of new clothes-"

"Bit rude don't you think Mycroft?" Sherlock interrupted.

Mycroft scoffed and looked at Sherlock, "Brother Mine, do not tell me you haven't noticed- the girl needs, well, a makeover."

At that Sherlock laughed, "And when did you become a fashion guru? But yes, I did notice it." He turned to me, "Dear sister, you need to learn how to take care of yourself- another thing you haven't grown out of."

I grimaced, "Yes, thank you for that observation, but can you please stop stalling- and don't you dare tell me you aren't- I need help and believe me, this is the last place I'd come to get it."

They both sat up straight and looked me dead in the eyes.

"Yes," Mycroft began, "I was wondering when you'd begin."

* * *

"When thinking back on it, I remember being so happy I was able to move away from home for university- especially to another country; I mean, at home there was nothing, you and Sherlock had already left years before and mummy and daddy where often too busy focusing on work rather than me. So it was like freedom, a chance to start again I suppose- and not as me.

It was great at first, I made many friends- not normal for a Holmes, I know- but people didn't care, I could be whoever I wanted to be, do whatever I wanted to do- no one was there to stop me until _he_ came along."

"Who?" Both men seemed entirely fixated on me.

"James Woodley.

At first he was nice, handsome and such a gentle young man- he'd joined the university a year before me and offered to help me out, but despite me saying no, he wasn't prepared to give up so I let him help me.

We quickly became friends and then something more- don't give me that look- and it was great and lasted until I graduated. It was only then that I noticed he'd become so protective of me, it was unhealthy- I wasn't allowed around other men and if he caught me with them he- he'd..." I couldn't speak.

"The little bastard!"

"Sherlock- what's done is done, and I know you're angry but please, let me finish!" I paused, I needed to calm myself, never mind my brother, "Thank you- he was fussy about my female friends too but things had gotten out of hand so I got out and left as soon as I could."

"What happened then?"

"I-I'm not sure exactly, remember how I said I didn't have to be me? Well, according to James, I was Alina House and I came from your average middle class American family with no other siblings, so I never suspected him at first-"

"Suspected him of what?"

"Just bloody wait and listen and maybe you'll find out, brother dearest. As I was saying, I never suspected him at first but when I began to connect the dots- It was the only possible explanation.

I'd been out of university for about a year when the first message appeared. It was just a simple 'I know' written on a postcard but at the time, I thought nothing of it. The next one I received was an empty postcard with a house on it and after that it was of a deer. Nothing else happened after that and I just got on with life, stupidly thinking they meant nothing, until I bumped into James.

He seemed to be the nice, kind, gentle James I met in my first year- he looked and acted like he wouldn't harm a fly! Something told me it was wrong and I knew it; I knew I'd be the one to get hurt again, but I ignored my instinct and I paid for it.

Time passed again and the messages came back, this time as texts- ones telling me things I had done or said during the day- the number was blocked but it was always signed by an M. Nothing else."

They shared a look, "Moriarty."

"I thought that- I'd heard the stories of you and him, how you'd jumped off St. Barts because of him- and once I did, everything clicked. The first postcard was of London, the house referred to Holmes and the deer along with my little messages- your deerstalker hat."

"So what made you connect Woodley?"

"I'd been out one day and by chance, I saw him, hiding in plain sight- he'd been trained by someone, he was too good at it- watching me. I'd called him over and he came up with some sorry excuse and that was it. I never received a text that day."

"And that connects him how?"

"Not long afterwards, he told me he was going out so when he left, I searched for something, anything, that would link him to this- and then I found them. He'd hidden the phone in an old phone's box, and when I checked, it only had my number saved to it and all the messages where there. There were also a number of postcards- one was blank, another had a cake on it and the other two had something written on them."

"What?"

"Honi soit qui mal y pense and Dieu et mon droit."

"The government."

"Yes."

"What did you do next?"

"I ran away; I escaped early the next morning and travelled to Europe. But no matter where I turned up, _he_ was there." I shuddered, "I don't even know how he found out- this was after Moriarty had died- but I did what I could until there was nothing else to do."

"You want us to help you find out who is behind this all?"

"Yes."

"Ah." I let them take in what I had said before moving on.

"That's not the only thing though.

Woodley's fascination with me wasn't purely with me. All the messages lead to you Sherlock- even the ones that hadn't been sent- London, the home, the hat, the cake was referring to Baker Street- even I didn't know you lived here until recently."

"So, they're not just after one Holmes in particular, but Sherlock and yourself? Very peculiar."

"Indeed."

"...What's going to happen now?" I asked quietly. I felt ashamed- nothing scared me, even as a child- no stories of the bogeyman would scare me into doing something- but now I sat there trembling in front of my unemotional brothers.

"I suggest you just let life go on as it wills- you will be perfectly safe around either myself or Sherlock, perhaps these messages will end if they realise you are under our protection-"

"Won't that just make it worse?! If they're after you, then now's their perfect chance to get you!"

 _What was he thinking?!_

"Sister mine, do not worry about such things, we will tackle them as they come. For now though, I suggest you get a job and sort yourself out, you don't know how long it will take for something to happen."

"So you're just going to ignore it then?" I ask shocked.

"No, I said we will sort it as it comes- there is nothing to go off at this current moment and do not think for one moment either myself or Sherlock will let you be alone again- it seems over 7 years worth of damage has already been dealt."

The silence after that was deafening. _How does he always know what I'm thinking?_ It wasn't long before Mycroft stood in the dark room and made his way to the door.

"You have no need to worry, you have Sherlock and I for that. I shall speak with you tomorrow, and Sherlock- do not forget. Goodnight siblings mine." And he trotted out the door with his umbrella swinging in tow.

"So," Sherlock began, "Warm milk before bed?"

"I am not a child Sherlock. And I am not even tired." I said as my body betrayed me and I let out a yawn.

"Clearly. Come sister mine, I believe something stronger might be in order then."

I never slept that night.

* * *

 **So, how was that? My head is currently hash- too many essays to write- so I apologise if it sounds like a load of mush mixed together. Please review and hope you enjoyed the read! x**


End file.
